The morning tea was steam and silence.

Master Vince and Khael sat on low stools beneath the eaves of the rebuilt shrine. A thin braid of steam rose from their cups, ghosting in the cool air. Children darted in the square, flinging pieces of rope, shrieking with that raw, immediate joy that comes from being alive after terror. Villagers moved with purpose hauling beams, sweeping ash, threading boards back into fences. The village smelled of sap and warm bread.

(This is what we fight for.) Khael thought, watching a little boy thrust a crooked wooden sword at a makeshift foe and laugh. His jaw softened for a breath; the dragon scales along his forearm flickered like embers. He sipped his tea with careful hands, eyes never leaving the children.

Vince's single arm rested on his knee, wrapped in a simple cloth. He watched the same scene and let a slow smile shape his face. "They're small things," he said with a voice that still carried the weight of storms. "But the world is made of small things. Keep them — and you keep the world."

Khael said with quiet gratitude, "Master—thank you."

Vince's grin was tired but warm. "We saved a village, that's enough. Rest a little before we move."

A faint clattering at the gate interrupted the peace. Two figures moved into the light with the ease of people who belong to no town and every battlefield. Their silhouettes cut the morning like knives.

The first to step forward wore a red scarf that fluttered like a live thing. Sierra Vance, her name would have carried weight in any other room arched her chin and let her gold eyes assess the small crowd. She was all economy and lethal grace; twin daggers at her hips reflected the sun.

The second was a mountain of a man, bare-chested, silver eyes calm as old steel. Garron, ex-Eclipse Vanguard, carried the quiet confidence of someone who had broken lines and held them.

Sierra said with a smirk, "Sierra Vance. Ex–Crimson Veinwalker. I take work that pays and promises trouble."

Garron said with a grunt, "Garron. Former Vanguard. I break what needs breaking."

The children stopped. The villagers' chatter tapering to a ripple. Andromeda, lounging with Junjun at his feet, straightened and offered the kind of smile that tried to be friendly but tasted like caution.

Khael's hand tightened around his cup. "You—" The question died on him as something else stepped into the clearing: a tall, lean figure who moved like a shadow solving a riddle.

He wore a mask of porcelain and black steel. The mask's surface swallowed light and returned only a thin, cold gleam. The person beneath it moved as if the night itself were guiding him. Ryn.

The hair under the hood caught the sun in a flash of color; Ryn's head tilted as if hearing a private concerto of the village's heartbeats. He regarded the scene with a predator's patience.

Vince's tea stilled in his hand. "Ryn?" His voice was equal parts surprise and a memory.

Ryn inclined his head, every motion measured. "You remember me, Master Vince," he said softly. The mask softened his words into something intimate and distant at once.

"Mari is waiting for you!"

The words struck him like a hammer. Beneath the steel of his control, something cracked. His hand trembled slightly.

Ryn murmured, voice low and layered with static the tone of someone used to hiding his pain behind a mission. The mask distorted his words, softening them into something intimate yet distant.

Vince took a cautious step forward, his one arm flexing as if ready to defend. "She's here, Ryn. She's been looking for you since the day you vanished."

Ryn's breath caught. Behind the slits of his mask, his amber eyes widened. "She's… here?"

Before Vince could reply, a soft, broken voice called from behind him trembling with disbelief and emotion.

"Ryn?"

Ryn turned sharply. The moonlight fell upon her Mari, standing near the rubble, wrapped in her faded green cloak. Her hair shimmered with silver strands, eyes glistening as if she were seeing a ghost.

"Sis?" His voice cracked, no longer the cold mercenary tone, but the voice of a lost boy.

He took a step toward her, the Voidborn's growl fading around them as if time itself held its breath.

"What are you doing here?" Ryn asked, confusion and fear knotting his words.

Mari smiled faintly through her tears. "To look for you, you idiot. To bring you home."

Ryn's hands clenched. "I told you to wait for me… I was going to bring the cure, the Hollow Heart—"

"No one asked you to!" she yelled suddenly, her voice cracking under the weight of years of grief.

Ryn froze.

Mari's body shook. "Mom's illness… it isn't your fault, Ryn! You don't have to throw your life away for us!"

Ryn's breath hitched. "No, sis… it was my fault." His voice trembled now, like a boy confessing a sin he'd never been forgiven for. "If I hadn't… taken that job, if I hadn't left that day, Mom would still…"

"Stop it!" Mari interrupted, stepping closer. "You were just a child!"

But before the distance between them could close, a voice cut through the night like a blade.

"What are you doing!!"

The air itself seemed to shiver.

From the shadows at the far end of the hill, K emerged his long black coat flaring behind him, the gleam of his mask cold as moonlit glass. The darkness around him writhed, twisting into unnatural forms.

Ryn froze instantly, head snapping toward his master. "My lord—"

K's voice was low and venomous. "That woman… is your sister?"

Ryn swallowed hard. "She….She doesn't matter. Please, my lord, let me…"

"You want the Hollow Heart, don't you?!" K's words thundered, echoing like the voice of a god gone mad. "Then prove it!"

The air tore open. Black fissures bloomed in the air around K as hundreds of Voidborn spilled forth grotesque forms of flesh and shadow, crawling and shrieking.

K extended his hand toward Vince, Khael, and the villagers behind them. "Then do it properly! Kill them all!"

"Stop!" Ryn shouted, but his plea was drowned in the roar of the Voidborn army.

"Ryn!" Mari screamed as the monsters surged.

Ryn's jaw clenched, his entire body trembling. "No… no, this isn't what I wanted."

Vince's voice was steady, cutting through the chaos. "Then prove it, boy. Prove you're not just another pawn."

For a long, agonizing second, Ryn didn't move. Then with a violent motion he ripped off his mask, the porcelain shattering as it hit the ground. Beneath it was a young man's face, sharp and pale, eyes burning with regret and fury.

"Sis… stay behind me."

Mari shook her head. "Ryn, no—"

But it was too late. The first Voidborn lunged.

Ryn's twin blades ignited in violet flame as he spun, cutting through the creature with surgical precision. Each strike was filled with desperate anger not toward his enemies, but himself.

Khael and Vince rushed forward to join the fight.

"Ceyla! Juno! Get the villagers out!" Khael ordered, drawing his sword, the dragon-shaped sigil on his arm glowing faintly.

The young warriors of Tashi moved as one. Ceyla's wind barrier burst forth, deflecting the incoming spears of shadow. Juno's arrows rained from above, each one burning with purified Shinrei energy.

"Matt, Andromeda, Captain Robi—assist Master Vince!" Khael shouted.

"Roger!!"

The ground shook beneath the Voidborn's onslaught.

Vince leaped forward, one arm glowing with pure light as he slammed it into the earth. "Break!"

A wave of energy exploded outward, tearing through the creatures nearest him. His gaze flicked toward Ryn and for a heartbeat, he saw the boy he once trained years ago, trembling beneath the weight of impossible guilt.

K laughed coldly from afar. "Look at you, Ryn. Even now, you hesitate."

Ryn gritted his teeth, his body shaking. "Shut up…"

"You still cling to your sister… your family… weakness."

"Shut up!!" Ryn screamed, his Shinrei bursting outward like a storm, forming a glowing sigil across his chest. The energy rippled through the night, throwing even the Voidborn off balance.

Mari shielded her eyes from the light. "Ryn!"

He turned toward her, blood trickling from his lip. "Sis… tell Mom… I'm sorry."

Then he charged straight toward K.

Khael's eyes widened. "No—Ryn!"

But K only smiled beneath his mask, raising one hand. "Finally."

The moment Ryn reached him, K caught his blade with bare fingers, Shinrei energy crackling between them.

"You still don't get it, my dear apprentice." His other hand rose, pressing against Ryn's chest. "This world doesn't reward redemption."

Ryn's voice trembled. "Just leave my sister out of this. I'll be your dog if I have to."

For a heartbeat, silence. Then laughter. Low at first, then growing into something sharp and cruel.

"Hahahahaha…" K's mask tilted as he laughed. "A dog, you say? You already were, Ryn."

Behind K, the darkness pulsed again. Two figures appeared beside the burning wreckage Sierra Vance and Garron.

Sierra's red scarf whipped in the wind, twin daggers shimmering faintly with Shinrei energy. Garron stood beside her, bare-chested despite the cold, muscles like coiled steel, the Ironclad Order tattoo stretched across his chest.

"Sierra! Garron!" Ryn shouted. "Get Mari out of here!"

The two mercenaries hesitated glancing at each other.

K's laughter subsided into a chilling calm. He turned to them, voice honeyed and poisonous. "You two… mercenaries, aren't you?"

Sierra's eyes narrowed. "We don't answer to you."

"Ah, but you answer to coin," K replied smoothly, taking a slow step forward. "Ryn paid you to fight for him… didn't he?"

Neither replied.

K's tone sharpened. "Then let me make it simple. Whatever he gave you…" he held up two gloved fingers "I'll pay double."

The air went still.

Ryn froze. "What—? Sierra, Garron, don't you dare—!"

The two mercenaries exchanged a look. A silent conversation passed between them shame, hesitation… and cold pragmatism.

Sierra lowered her gaze. "Sorry, Ryn."

Garron's expression hardened. "We fight for money. Always have."

Ryn's eyes widened with disbelief. "You…"

Sierra's tone softened, almost regretful. "You should've known better than to trust mercenaries."

K's laughter echoed, hollow and cruel. "Splendid. Mercenaries, dogs, broken siblings… what a fine collection of filth."

He turned his head slightly, the mask catching the firelight. "Now… show me your loyalty."

Sierra's daggers ignited with crimson Shinrei, the air rippling with heat. Garron's skin darkened with iron plating, muscles surging as he assumed his battle stance.

Khael, standing beside Vince, narrowed his eyes. "Be careful, everyone." His tone grew grim. "That man Garron is a Former Vanguard."

Ceyla's breath caught. "Vanguard? You mean—"

"Yeah," Khael said, voice low. He drew his blade, the wind swirling around him. "And that woman Sierra is a Crimson Veinwalker. One rank below Vanguard… and still strong enough to level a platoon alone."

Vince's face darkened. "Ryn, you fool… the people you trusted were already lost."

Mari clutched her cloak tightly, eyes darting between them. "Ryn, please! Stop this! You can't fight all of them!"

But Ryn only smiled faintly a smile filled with pain. "Sis… I don't need to win."

He lifted his blades again, violet light flickering along the edges. "I just need to keep you safe."

Sierra dashed forward first, her movements too fast for the eye to follow. Ryn parried, sparks flying, their Shinrei auras clashing in a flare of red and violet. Garron followed, fist swinging like a meteor, the impact cracking the ground and sending shockwaves through the air.

"Impressive," Khael muttered, blocking debris with a wind barrier. "A Vanguard and Crimson working together… this is a nightmare."

To be continue

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